


Happy Birthday

by KayleeJohn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom!Harry, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top!Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeJohn/pseuds/KayleeJohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall wants Harry to bottom and, really, what better day than on Harry's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> First (and probably last lbh) time writing bottom!harry! I figured I had to do something new! You only turn 20 once hahah Also posted on [my tumblr](http://leprechauncupcakes.tumblr.com/post/75319717123/happy-birthday-narry) if you wanna read it there!

Harry hadn’t heard his front door open - even though he was sure as hell he had gone to bed alone - but, now, he’s waking up to the feeling of lips drawing a soft line across the arch of his brow and fingers dancing over the swell of his cheek. And Harry doesn’t really have to open his eyes because he can just take a breath and then he’s completely overwhelmed with the smell of Niall, vanilla and pomegranate and just the slightest hint of peppermint thanks to his shampoo. 

Harry hums and reaches out his hand to twine his fingers in Niall’s shirt, tugging Niall that much closer as his lips skitter over Harry’s eyelids and the line of Harry’s nose, dipping down to mouth at the line of Harry’s jaw before rising up to press his lips against Harry’s gently. Harry moans when Niall pushes his tongue gently through the seal of Harry’s lips, licking wetly into Harry’s mouth but carefully, with these slow sweeps of his tongue that have Harry stirring his hips against the bed when they break apart.

“Good morning,” Niall whispers, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s lightly as he scales his hand from where it’s been clasped lightly against Harry’s cheek, palming over his shoulder and down his arm, tangling their fingers together loosely. “More importantly, happy 20th birthday.” And Harry feels happy warmth pool into his stomach and he thumbs over the line of Niall’s knuckles just so he has something to do with himself.

Harry shifts from where he’s been sleeping on his stomach to lie on his side, finally opening his eyes, and he’s visually assaulted by the blonde and the blue and the rosy pink cheeks but he just absolutely  _loves_  it. “Thanks, Ni,” Harry ducks his chin into his chest to hide a grin, reaching up to cup Niall’s throat and hold him still for a couple self-indulgent pecks but, when Niall wrinkles his nose, Harry thinks it’s time for him to get up and brush his teeth.

So he reluctantly climbs out of the warmth of his bed and shuffles into his bathroom, speaking over his toothbrush as he hears his mattress squeak with Niall’s movement. “Got any plans for the day?” He asks because he knows he doesn’t have any personally other than rest and relaxation and maybe going to swing by his mum’s for some family loving but, if Niall’s here, he must have some – some that include staying in bed all day is what Harry hopes Niall has in mind but he isn’t picky.

“I was thinking,” Niall’s voice is a lot closer now and, looking to his right, Harry can see him leaning against the bathroom doorway, hands dipped in his pockets and head tilted down almost anxiously but Harry doesn’t know why he’d be nervous. “You know that thing we talked about a while ago?” And Harry isn’t exactly sure what Niall is talking about, bending over to spit froth into the sink before he wipes at his mouth and heads back over. 

Harry slides a hand around Niall’s waist and shakes his head, mumbling that he doesn’t remember seconds before he dips down to kiss Niall lightly and, though Niall returns it wholeheartedly, he still has his hands dipped his pockets and his eyes turned away from Harry’s face. “The switching thing, Harry?”

Oh, Harry remembers now. It’s more of an unconscious thing when Harry steps back, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head and, yeah, he’s nervous as shit but that’s not really unexpected – having something stuck up your ass doesn’t exactly _sound_ the nicest. But Niall bottoms all the time so it really can’t be as bad as Harry expects it to be. That doesn’t mean he ever wanted to find out what it was like. _But_ , Niall  _had_  promised to be careful and all that junk and Harry couldn’t really say no to that.

“I mean, we don’t have to do it, like  _right now_  right now.” Niall stammers, pressing his hands flat to Harry’s chest in effort to calm him down, sliding his hands down Harry’s body before he looped them around his waist. “Just thought it’d be nice, for your birthday.” The words are a mumble into Harry’s chest and almost immediately followed by Niall shaking his head lightly before he backs away. “Never mind. C’mon, I’ll make you breakfast.” And Niall does, leading the way downstairs before he sets Harry down at the table and he moves around the kitchen with practised ease, whipping up pancakes in minutes. 

Harry dives in almost as soon as Niall brings them over because Niall always makes the best breakfast foods and Harry crowds Niall in for a sticky kiss afterwards as his thanks, using his wrists to keep Niall steady because his hands are a mess. It’s only when they head to the living room to watch some TV that Harry starts to feel bad because, yeah, it might be his birthday – and he should be the one getting treated with celebratory sex – he still absolutely hates to disappoint Niall.

Even if Niall is smiling – and distractingly stroking his thumb over the nape of Harry’s neck – and doesn’t look disappointed in the slightest - seriously, that thumb is really distracting – that’s the way Harry feels and he just wants to do everything to make Niall happy, just like Niall does for him. So, Harry swipes the remote off the coffee table and shuts off the TV, tugging Niall up from where he’s slouching against the arm of the couch. ”Wha-?”

Niall can barely get a word in edgewise before Harry cups his cheeks and tugs him close and Harry doesn’t pull away until he’s backed Niall out of the living room, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. “Yeah,” Harry gasps out until he realizes that really doesn’t explain much so he nods his head toward the bed. “I mean, yeah, you can fuck me.” And, for a moment, all Niall does is mouth a little aimlessly as the words process in his mind so Harry reaches up and pulls off his sleep shirt and  _that_  seems to draw something out of Niall.

“Yeah? I mean, yeah,  _yeah_.” Niall stammers, guiding Harry to sit on the edge of the bed before he starts pulling off his own clothes. Harry tugs Niall close before he can weasel out of his boxers, arching up to catch Niall’s mouth and lay them flat on the bed and he groans at the sudden pressure against his swelling cock because this is exactly how it always goes and Harry doesn’t know why on earth he was worried.

“You should,” Niall can barely gasp the words out when Harry drops his lips to mouth across the column of Niall’s throat but then Niall pushes a hand up against Harry’s shoulder and pries a good spot of space between them so that their eyes have to meet, and their chests heave with deep breathes. “You should roll over, onto your stomach. It’s easier that way.” And, Harry is worried again.

Though he can’t exactly say what of – definitely not Niall – Harry licks at his lips and nods his head, edges the rest of his way out of his boxers and socks before he rolls onto his stomach and, truth be told, he feels more naked than the first time he had sex and he wonders if this is how Niall feels every time Harry spreads him out on a bed – or a floor, they’ve been known to take things to the floor sometimes.

Harry takes a sharp breath when he feels the bed dip around his hips, Niall leaning into the mattress, but Harry positively jolts when he feels the heavy beat of Niall’s cock against the small of his back. “Just relax, Harry.” Niall had bent double at some point so his mouth rests lightly against the dip of Harry’s shoulders and, when Harry arches up even a little, he can feel Niall’s chest just a stone’s throw away. “I’m not going to hurt you. Or, at least, I won’t on purpose.”

The words are just on the edge of teasing and Harry pillows his head in his arms with a sigh. “Makes me feel better,” He grunts out softly but sardonically, twisting his head to the side, and it’s a bit of a pleasant surprise when Niall catches his lips in a soft kiss, hands painting over the length of Harry’s back before skittering over his hips.

Harry tips his hips up in some sort of hope and he isn’t disappointed in the slightest because Niall reaches beneath him and starts tugging at his cock with these smooth, even strokes. “Meant that in the best way,” Niall pulls his hand away before Harry comes and he has half a mind to roll over and finish himself off but Niall traces his fingers along the length of Harry’s spine as he leaves and that renders Harry _completely_ speechless. “You _can_ come now.” And, oh great, he can, but he just has to do it himself.

Harry worms a hand underneath his body to palm at his cock and he twists his head to follow Niall as he moves away from the bed. “Where’re you going anyway?” Niall has his hand stuck in Harry’s dresser drawer, riffling around for something and, when he turns around, Harry can see exactly what that something is. Lube. To stretch Harry out. And, he’s freaking out again.

Harry must be a glass slate because Niall smiles at him kindly and walks back over. “Just to be clear,” Niall says as he sinks down on the bed and he reaches under Harry’s body to give him a helping hand. “We don’t have to do this.” But Harry is half drugged with the way Niall’s palm just eases over the length of his prick.

It’s highly distracting, to say the least and – though Harry gurgles out words eventually, “No, no, it’s fine,” – his hips are an unstoppable force, bucking into Niall’s hand until he comes with almost pathetic ease, oozing out a mess on the sheets beneath his groin. “Oh, _god_ ,” Harry slurs, rolling over onto his side just to get away from the sticky mess around his penis.

Niall just chuckles and coaxes Harry back onto his back, and Harry is so relaxed that he doesn’t really notice the way Niall sits behind him again but he sure as hell notices when Niall pushes his legs apart, no matter how gently he does it. Niall has to plant his hands into Harry’s back to stop him from rising up, chuckling softly as he eases Harry back down to the bed, and he kisses at Harry’s spine again to soothe him. “Just breathe, Harry. Count them out for me.”

There’s a part of Harry that just wants to roll his eyes and call the whole thing off but even his first breathe settles him down. He sighs out the count with each and every breath, pillowing his head on his arms again, and he’s still calm, even when he can clearly hear the sound of Niall slicking up his fingers with lube. “How long do I have to do this?” Harry asks after he hits fifteen because he’s calm now, lightheaded even. Except. Harry arches right off the bed when Niall slides the tip of one finger through the cleft of his ass, right over that tight whorl that positively _tingles_ from the faint graze, and Harry can’t remember what breath is anymore.

“For as long as I tell you,” Niall mumbles softly, almost offhandedly like he’d thought the words and they hadn’t meant to come out but they did and Harry knots his fingers in the sheets with a hoarse moan, rutting down into the sheets because _that_ was truly something else. “Trust me now?” Niall pops out casually and Harry is too lost in bliss to even want to respond.

He doesn’t voice a single complaint when Niall pries his cheeks apart, doesn’t say a single thing of Niall just sitting there and _looking_ at him. He does let a little muffle loose into the bed when Niall presses the pad of a finger against his rim because, even though it’s not the slightest bit inside of him, it’s just so much fucking pressure that Harry is struggling to breathe. _Fuck_ counting them out, Harry is about to lose his damn mind and he hasn’t got so much as a single finger inside him yet.

“Doin’ okay up there?” Niall asks, stirring his finger in a soft circle, such a delicate move that has Harry pressing his hips back into it just to get more because his body has to be on fire, there’s no way he could be feeling like this and not on fire and, was Niall saying something to him? “Hang on,” And then Niall is pulling away and Harry is letting out a breath in a big gush like he was just holding it in for years.

Harry wants to ask where _the hell_ Niall thinks he’s going but he doesn’t know if he can manage to get the words out so he just raises his head and whines. “Even worse than when you’re on top,” Niall chuckles before he taps two fingers against Harry’s side. “Hips up,” And Harry can pretty much only obey, sinking down on the pillow Niall sets beneath his groin like it’s nothing. This new position, though, has his ass arched lewdly up in the air and he should feel completely embarrassed by it, flushed ripe red down to his toes but all he can feel is that same old embedded need and want that always comes with sex and, more importantly, Niall – _and sex_.

There’s a part of Harry that feels bad that Niall is doing all the talking, all the work, and everything but then Niall is back behind him and that fingerprint of pressure is back against his ass and all thought of guilt is gone from his mind like dust in the wind. By the time Niall has his whole finger sunk inside Harry’s body, slow boiled pressure with the push of every inch, Harry has rutted another orgasm off in the sheets, and after _that_ two fingers goes really easy.

“Sorry,” Harry slurs out after Niall works a third finger inside him, stopping the buck of his hips to cut off the back and forth he had adopted at some point. He lets out something akin to a sob when Niall pulls his fingers out because there’s a wet squelch and then nothing but his body bearing down on empty and that is just _not right_.

And it’s not like Harry had promised himself this would be the only time they’d do this but he can definitely see himself getting as addicted to this as he is to Niall sitting on his dick. “Was that too much?” Niall asks, resting his hand on the shell of Harry’s hip and, no, no, that’s definitely not it. Harry can’t shake his head fast enough for Niall to understand that it definitely wasn’t too much.

“No, it’s just–. This can’t be very much fun for you.” Harry stammers, craning his head back over his shoulder to see Niall’s face and that is the most shocking thing yet because Niall’s lips are bitten this dark shade of pink and his cheeks are redredred and his _eyes_ make Harry feel like he’s being pried right apart because they are dark and hooded and they make Harry feel like he was oh so very wrong because it looks like Niall is the one being taken apart instead of Harry.

Niall crawls up Harry’s body, dipping his head so that he can kiss Harry gently before he rests their head together, eyes squeezed shut tight like he’s trying to imprint this memory on his mind forever – hell, Harry knows he’ll never forget it himself. “You have no idea.” Niall sighs out after a moment before he pulls away and Harry stamps down on another whine when Niall stands up from the bed again because he doesn’t know _why_ Niall is leaving. So he looks. Niall is riffling through Harry’s drawer again, before he sits back behind him and he’s ripping open a condom with his teeth before Harry realizes and, oh. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

Harry has to twist away when Niall starts rolling the condom down his cock because it’s nearly too much but he manages to nod his head before he buries it in the bed because, with the sound of Niall slicking himself up with lube, Harry sure as shit knows what comes next. Harry jumps at the graze of wet from his balls, up over his taint, and right over his rim – like Niall is teasing him – and he wants to scream. He settles for a groan into the bed when he feels the head of Niall’s cock start to press into, much _fucking_ wider than three fingers, but Niall had been good to him, taking his time with Harry, so the first inch isn’t painful.

Harry forces himself to relax – some part of his muscle memory reminding him from what Niall had said before – and it’s like that is the last straw because his body just _gives_ around Niall’s cock and Niall sinks right to the hilt and Harry _howls_. Not out of pain but out of pleasure because the sheer pressure is unlike anything he’s ever felt before and he’s amazed that he can even make a sound because he feels absolutely breathless. “Oh _god_ ,” He just manages to gasp out, waiting for the heady pull but it never comes because Niall _isn’t moving_ and a part of Harry wants to die because this is torture. So, he starts begging – which is really more of a common occurrence than Harry would like to admit. “Niall, pleasepleasepleaseplease _move_.”

Niall’s hands skitter up Harry’s back and he arches under the touch like it’s a blessing and it truly is after a moment because, as soon as Niall gets his hands planted in the bed under Harry’s arms, he pumps his hips and it is like _heaven_. Harry understands everything now. Harry moans more lewdly than he would’ve liked to, writhes more enthusiastically than he ever wanted to, but Niall takes it all in stride, working out a steady rhythm that has him gasping for breath against Harry’s back, digging his nails in for purchase against Harry’s hips, and Harry is sure that he’s proving a soundtrack of these pathetic little whimpers, muffled into the mattress, but how much does he care about that? Not one bit.

It’s after a moment that Harry starts to notice that the thrusts are jerky, like either Niall is a stone’s throw away from losing control or– Niall’s next few thrusts skate over Harry’s prostate and it’s just such a sudden burst of stimulation that – game over, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars – Harry feels like he blanks out from the pleasure and the prickly and the mind numbing orgasm shooting out onto the pillow beneath.

When he finally comes to, Niall is scraping his teeth gently over the knob of Harry’s shoulder and easing his softening cock out of Harry’s body and Harry can’t help but feel swamped with disappointment that he missed the grand finale but then Niall is tying off the condom and tossing it in the vague direction of the trash bin, collapsing beside Harry on the bed with a drained sigh. “Holy fuck,” Niall gasps out, clapping a hand to his clammy chest before he lets his head fall to the side so their eyes can meet. “We are doing that again.”

And Harry has the words ‘not right now’ on the tip of his tongue before he realizes Niall is as drained as he is and that is probably not at all what Niall means. “Fuck yeah,” He manages to croak out after he gets a hold of himself. He worms his pillow from underneath his groin when his strength comes back to him, frowning at it before he tosses it to the floor. “But I need a new pillow.”

Niall snorts a little but wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him close to bring him in for a sweet, lazy kiss, and Harry is definitely going to insist that they’re face to face the next time they do it because the kisses has been the one thing missing. That and, “Sorry I didn’t do much.” Harry mumbles when they break apart to cuddle up in bed, because he is genuinely regretting not being an active participant. Niall always is and Harry would kill just to return the favour.

Niall tickles his fingers over the line of Harry’s jaw, smiling softly before he arches up to peck him. “You’ll get better.” Niall hums softly, tracing his fingers over the line of Harry’s lips and Harry can’t really think of a better birthday present than this. They lie there in this post coitus bliss for a long time, Harry isn’t exactly sure but, when his phone buzzes on his bedside table, it’s about three in the afternoon. “S’that important?” Niall mumbles against his arm and Harry checks the message before tossing his phone away again, curling softly back against Niall.

“The boys wanna hang out. Nothing big, just the five of us.” Harry says as he threads his fingers through Niall’s hair and he knows, in that moment, that he will do anything that Niall wants him to. So, they head to Louis’ house after taking an hour to get ready, getting distracted midway through before rushing out the front door and Harry doesn’t sit straight through the rest of the day, canting away from Louis’ and Zayn’s ass-swatting hands, because they _know_ – of course they know – and they just love to tease him about it. He knows he walks with this shaky gait but the reason behind it all makes him smile secretively to himself and, on top of that, every so often, he catches Niall’s eye, watching him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, and Niall just has this pleased, satisfied, _triumphant_ look in his eyes and _that_ makes it all worth it.


End file.
